Revenge
by xgoodbyexlovex
Summary: A certain anarchist, filmmaker, musician, and performance artist get revenge on their ex best friend.
1. How It Began

**I'm back. I thought I would try somethingdifferent from my last two stories, and this is what came out. Hope you like it. Please review.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT or Cap'n Crunch.**

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**March 1988**

Mark lumbered up the stairs, one hand clutching his backpack, the other tenderly cradling his camera. Past the graffiti walls and over the chipped wood floors, he returned after yet another depressingly discouraging day of filming. Exhausted, he was eager to return to a quiet loft for once. Their crappy, too-small home was filled to the brim with way too many bitchy people getting on each other's nerves, so silence was a rare gift. But today, with everyone gone (Maureen protesting, Benny with Alison in the yuppie side of town, Collins who knows where, and Roger and April somewhere doing something he didn't want to think about), Mark had the loft to himself. He planned on getting home, dropping on the couch, and lying there, staring at nothing and enjoying the silence.

Mark reached the loft, and pulled open the heavy door with a bang. He strode over to the metal table to set down his bag and camera.

_Crash_. Then, "Shit!"

It came from Benny and Collins' room. Mark whipped his head around and stared at the closed door. _A robber, maybe?_ A voice in Mark's head asked. _Are you kidding?_ Voice Number Two sneered. _You give this shithole too much credit._

Mark strained his ears. There was a low mutter, then a woman's voice answering in a snippy tone. He groaned. Benny and Alison were back. He so did _not_ want to deal with her right now. _Run, run, run_ Voice Number One screamed. He decided to listen to it. Gathering his notebook and grabbing a pen off the table, he slipped quietly out of the loft, leaving his camera behind.

* * *

A shirtless Benny stuck his head out the bedroom door.

"Hello?" He asked, searching the loft. He noticed Mark's camera on the table. "Mark?" No answer.

"Is he gone?" Alison whined from the bed.

"I think so."

"Good. I'm hungry." Wearing nothing but a skimpy t-shirt, she sauntered out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. He cocked his head as she passed, staring at her backside. _Nice view_, he thought.

"Oh, what the hell?" She screeched. "You guys have, like, nothing in here but cheap beer and Cap'n Crunch!" She continued rummaging through the cabinets as Benny rolled his eyes. _That's what comes from being a starving artist._ Slamming the final one closed, she turned toward him.

"Never mind," she hissed, hands on her hips. "I'm bored." She pouted.

Benny stifled a sigh. His friends made fun of him. "Why the hell do you stay with her," they asked. But there _was_ a good side to Alison. Deep down, behind the bitchy, whiny, extremely spoiled rich girl, there was a sweet, cute, loving woman. The bad thing was the latter side of her wasn't on the surface often.

"How 'bout," He moved slowly toward her in his "seductive" walk, "we go back to the bedroom—"

"You look stupid when you're trying to be sexy," Alison stated. Benny stopped, his ego hurt. Yep, the good side was _way_ deep down there.

She folded her arms and sighed, as if Benny was so boring, it was killing her. Her eyes roamed across the room, then stopped, a smile curling her lips. Benny followed her gaze to the table, or, more precisely, what was on the table.

Mark's camera.

"What?" He asked, scared to know. She turned her smile toward him. The smile that made his knees weak.

"You know what would be fun..."

"What?" He asked again, slowly.

She picked up the camera.

"No!" He yelled, his heart leaping to his throat.

"What?" She asked innocently, staring back at him with that same, evil smile. _Oh, hell_. Yes, Mark was weak and little, and under normal circumstances, Benny would probably whip the kid's ass. But that camera was his _life_. If it broke, the scrawny white boy would turn _violent_.

"Put it down," Benny cautioned.

"I won't break it." Then she threw it up in the air.

"Holy--!" Benny yelped and lunged at her, catching the camera and bringing it protectively to his chest.

"Oh, come _on_," Alison whined. "I _won't _break it."

"He'll _kill_ me!"

"What Albino Boy doesn't know won't hurt him." She walked slowly toward him until they were inches apart. She grabbed his head and pulled it to hers, her lips brushing his. She breathed out, "Don't you want some... fun?"

Benny closed his eyes and groaned. He was _so_ dead meat. Opening his eyes, he caught the victorious gleam in his girlfriend's eyes.

"Fine..." He whimpered. "What are we going to do with it?"

Alison giggled devilishly.

_This is gonna come back to bite me in the ass. _Benny thought.

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**Next chapter up soon!**


	2. Enter Mark

**I didn't think I would get this up so fast, but here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.**

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"Stupid, spoiled, greedy monkeys," Mark muttered, pissed off at the cafe for kicking him out again. For the second time that day, he trudged up the stairs, shoulders slumped, a scowl on his face. He fumbled with the keys and opened the door. Stumbling inside, he wearily threw the notebook and his coat on the couch. He turned toward the kitchen, ready to make a nice, hot, _free_ cup of tea, but stopped. He stared at the table, its metal gleaming back teasingly, highlighting the gigantic absence of his most precious object.

His heart stopped. His camera.

It.

Was.

Gone.

"Ahhh!" He screamed and began racing around the loft. He checked the kitchen, the closet, the bathroom, in the cabinets, under the table, under the couch, the seat cushions. He burst into the room he shared with Roger, throwing things around, searching through piles of clothes, under the beds, all the while hissing, "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

Finding nothing, he raced over to Maureen's room, opening drawers, tearing apart her closet, digging through the crap on the floor. "Fuck!" He screamed in frustrating, and ran over to Benny and Collins' room.

Bursting in, he stopped in his tracks. His camera. His eyes followed the hands holding it to the face they belonged to. A look of pure terror crossed over Benny's face as Mark tackled him to the floor with a loud, bloodthirsty shriek.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Benny repeated, clutching the bag of ice to his head.

"You should be. You were molesting it," Mark accused, holding onto his baby with a death grip.

They were in the main room, Benny sitting on the table, nursing his wounds, Mark lying on the couch across the room, glaring daggers at him. Alison was getting her things together in Benny's room.

"I was not." Benny rolled his eyes. "I didn't break it," he added.

"Screw you," Mark answered, and clutched the camera closer to his chest.

The bedroom door creaked open and Alison emerged, fully dressed, the usual smug smile on her face.

"Well, I'll be going. You two have fun." She winked as she let herself out.

A silence followed.

Then, "So what _were_ you doing with my camera, dare I ask?"

Benny's gaze shifted to the floor. "Umm..." He chuckled nervously. "It's actually a funny story."

"I am waiting to be amused," Mark snapped.

Benny winced, took a deep breath, and began to tell him.

* * *

Collins reached for the door, but jumped back as it flew open, Benny appearing on the other side.

"And stay out, you creep!" Mark's voice followed him out the door.

Collins blinked. "I bet there's an interesting story behind this," he stated dryly as Benny made a hasty retreat down the stairs.

"Shrimp boy kicked me out," Benny yelled sheepishly back to Collins from the bottom floor.

"Oh, did he?" Collins turned his gaze into the loft to where Mark sat on the couch with his camera, scowling like a mother gorilla protecting her baby. Collins stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Interesting story, indeed," he remarked, crossing over to the couch. Mark glowered as Collins sat down next to him, and clutched the camera tighter. "Care to share?"

"That slime ball fondled my camera."

"Oh... wanna elaborate?"

"No."

"Ok." Collins' gaze swept across the room, taking in the overturned chairs, the pillows thrown all over, the open cabinets, and scattered papers. "Well, then, wanna tell me why it looks like an F5 tornado touched down in here?"

"No."

"Ok."

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**Chapter 3 up soon.**


	3. The Plan

**Thanks for all the reviews so far. They make me very happy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.**

**

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****June 1988—Three months later**

"Can you imagine the _nerve_ of that idiot!" Maureen's screech made Roger cringe. "I mean, first he goes off with that spoiled, rotten wench of his, comes over one day, 'Guess what guys, I'm engaged!', drops us like a frickin' bag of dirt, and then expects us to come to his wedding!"

"Reception," Collins interrupted from the chair.

"What?" Maureen snapped.

"Wedding reception. Not the wedding. There's a difference."

"Shut up, doofus," Maureen shot back. She resumed her angry stalking around the loft.

Lying on one end of the couch, Roger chuckled. He straightened up and yanked the invitation out of Maureen's claw like hands as she passed by him.

"Hey!" She yelped.

"I haven't seen it yet." Roger studied the heavily flowered and embossed piece of paper. Yep, there it was, smack-dab in the middle: "You are cordially invited to the wedding reception celebrating the marriage of Benjamin Michael Coffin III to Alison Marie Susan Grey." The invitation, or at least _their_ invitation ended there, since Maureen had decided to rip it to shreds.

"You know, Benny _is_ our friend," April observed from the opposite end of the couch.

"_Was_," Mark answered darkly.

"Maybe you guys are just blowing this way out of proportion... I mean, he hasn't changed or anything."

Maureen stopped her pacing to pick up a piece of the invitation from the floor. "Um, you should be pissed off, too." She looked at April. "You weren't invited."

The redhead scoffed. "Oh, yeah, I'm the only one who's actually sticking up for the moron and I didn't get invited." Roger smiled and nudged her with his foot, her bright smile returning in a second.

"So," Collins ventured. "Are we going?"

"Hell, no!" Maureen yelled as she joined Mark on the table.

"I think we should," Roger said. "It might be fun."

"Fun!" Maureen screeched. "Are you insane! This is _Benny_ we're talking about. Suck-up, party pooper Benny. It won't be fun."

"Well, no, it won't be fun if we act like normal, everyday people," Roger agreed. "But I say we go, and get back at Benny for ditching us to join _those_ people."

"Hmm..." A smile formed on Collins' lips.

"Yeah! Let's do it!" Maureen gave an excited yelp.

"But do what?" April asked.

A silence passed over the group.

Mark studied his camera, a plan forming in his mind. He smiled. "I think I got it."

They all turned to him.

"Remember that time I caught Benny with my camera?" He asked.

"Yeah," Maureen said. "You never told us the whole story."

"Well, he kinda made me promise that I wouldn't tell, but..."

"He's treated us like shit, so you have our permission to break that promise," Roger offered.

"Exactly," Mark nodded.

"Tell us!" Maureen whined.

"Ok. Well, a couple of months ago, I was eavesdropping onhim and Alison."

"Ok..." Collins said.

"They were talking about having this 'video montage' thing at the reception, snapshots of them hugging, kissing, basically having major PDA. This means that they'll probably have all this video equipment set up, right? A projector and everything?"

Roger nodded. "So..."

"Ok, check this out," the filmmaker said, hopping down from the table. He pulled a roll of film out of a box and slid it onto the projector. The others gathered around him as he turned it on. The screen lit up with faded color.

"Holy..." April whispered.

"Eww..." Collins added.

A silence followed as they watched the screen, with those two comments basically summing up everyone's feelings. Then...

"Muffy? Did he just call her Muffy?" Roger asked.

Maureen gave an evil laugh. "Man, this is too good..."

They watched as the film came to an end, with a very enraged Mark taking a wild leap toward the camera. The screen turned blank.

"He is going to hate us forever," Mark decided.

"Excellent," Maureen hissed.

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**Chapter Four up soon. Please review.**


	4. Operation Muffy

**Again, thanks for all the reviews, and I'm sorry this took so long. **

**Disclaimer: RENT is not mine.**

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"Ok, Maureen you know what you have to do, right?"

"Yep!" came the peppy reply.

"Roger?"

"Yeah." He sounded a little disgruntled. "I just sit there and _watch_."

Mark rolled his eyes, then switched the heavy camera bag to the other shoulder. "And Collins, you're with me." Collins nodded.

They continued down the street in silence, everyone brimming with excitement, anticipation, and the sweet taste of revenge. Arriving at their destination, they looked up in disgust at the old, ugly building where the reception was being held.

"Operation Muffy is a go," Maureen whispered.

* * *

"Hey you guys!" A happy—but nervous—looking Benny came running up to them when they entered. "I'm so happy you guys came," he gushed as he crushed each of them in a bear hug. "This really means a lot to me." He led them through the hallway into the huge banquet hall. It was filled with snooty people in expensive looking outfits and greater-than-thou sneers to match. They gave the motley group, dressed in casual jeans and ragged shirts, glares as they passed by. Mark felt uncomfortable, but Benny didn't seem to notice the disdainful looks they recieved. He continued talking about how happy he was all the way until they got to the bridal table on the stage.

"Alison!" He called, motioning her over to them. Mark caught the look of disgust that crosssed her face before a sappy smile replaced it.

"Hi!" She greeted in her usual high, whiny voice.

"Hey," they muttered in a less enthisiastic tone.

"We're so glad you could come." The words seemed rehearsed.

"I bet, Muffy!" Roger couldn't stop himself from saying. Mark almost started strangling him.

"What!" Benny and Alison screeched and gave the musician panicky stares.

Roger slapped a big, goofy grin on his face. "What?"

Benny glanced at Alison. "Never mind... I-I'll show you guys to your table."

"Toodles!" Maureen yelled happily to Alison as they followed Benny back through the crowd.

"Here you go. You'll be sharing a table with the Jeffersons," he told them as they sat down. "We're gonna start with speeches and food and stuff in about ten minutes, so just sit down, relax, and" he punched Roger in the arm "_behave_."

"Ow," Roger whined. "How come you're picking on me?"

Benny ignored him. "I'll see you guys later." He turned and headed back to the big table.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Collins leaned into the group. "Ok guys," he whispered. "We've got ten minutes. Let's do this thing."

Maureen, Mark, and Collins scrambled out of their seats.

"Come and tell us if Benny comes our way," Collins said over his shoulder as the three of them melted into the crowd.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Roger sulked. "This is so not fun."

A few minutes passed by, and a pretty woman about his age joined him at the table.

"Well, hello," he said to the newcomer. "I'm Roger, and I'm a rock god." He flashed her a sexy smile.

She gave him a look. "I'm Joanne, and I'm a lesbian."

"Oh."

She started at his ripped and fading jeans, his black t-shirt (also ripped), his tattoos, pierced ears, and bleached blond hair. "So..." She began. "How did _you_ get invited?"

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**Please review. **


	5. Revenge

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, the Rolling Stones, or Aerosmith (though it would be cool if I did).**

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The dance floor was in front of the bridal table. On one end of the area lay the video equipment, and the projector screen was set up on the opposite wall.

Maureen, Collins, and Mark casually strolled over to the equipment side of the room, stopping a few feet from the table.

"Ok, Maureen." Collins nudged her. "You're on."

The brunette sauntered over to the table.

"Hey," she said, putting on a bright smile.

The guy manning the equipment looked up from his magazine. "Hi," he said cautiously, and turned back to his reading.

"I bet you're bored," Maureen continued.

Video Guy looked up again. "Yeah..." His eyes widened as Maureen leaned over the table, giving him a full view of her _very_ low cut top.

She giggled. "You're kinda cute." He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but couldn't help from glancing down a few times.

"How 'bout you and me go get a few drinks?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't—I have to—I can't," Video Guy sputtered.

"Oh, come on," Maureen pouted. "Just a couple?"

"But—I have to work." He grudgingly turned his face back to his magazine.

Maureen hesitated, and glanced back at Collins and Mark, shrugging. _Keep going_, Collins mouthed.

She turned back to Video Guy, who was seemingly determined to remain engrossed in his reading. She reached over the table, plucked the magazine away from him, and threw it on the floor.

"Let's go, Pooky," she said, yanking Video Guy out of his chair and toward the bar. She winked at the boys as she passed by them.

Collins and Mark scrambled over to the table. Moving quickly, they replaced the video in the projector with Mark's film. Slapping the cover shut, Mark slipped the old film into his bag, and followed Collins toward their table.

* * *

"Are you _kidding_ me!" Joanne screeched. "Aerosmith _totally_ kicks the Rolling Stones' ass any day."

Roger gulped another mouthful of beer and slammed the bottle down, shaking the pile of bottles in front of them and spattering the table with more liquid. "You are so high, you don't even know what you're talking about! The Stones kill Aerosmith!"

"You are _insane_!"

"No, I—." Roger gasped as a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him out of his chair. "Hey," he whined. "My beer!"

"Let's go, boy," Collins said, letting go. Roger promptly fell on his face. "Are you drunk?"

"No," the musician sneered, struggling to his feet. Collins picked him up by the arm until he found his footing. When he dropped the arm, the rocker dropped, too.

"C'mon! We don't have all day!"

"I know, I know," Roger muttered, trying to get his feet under him.

Collins rolled his eyes, hauled his friend up, and half-carried, half-dragged him through the room.

"Where're we goin'?" Roger slurred.

"We're watching the show at the back, so when they come to murder us, we can leave right away."

"Oh... Where's Marky?"

"With Maureen," Collins huffed. He noted that the room seemed a lot bigger pulling a 22 year old man behind you. "Ok, Rog, help me out here. You're not exactly a ninety pound ballerina."

"Heh. I like ballerinas."

* * *

Mark and Maureen were waiting by the entrance when Collins and Roger showed up.

"What's wrong with him?" Mark asked.

"He got drunk in the ten minutes we left him alone." Mark and Maureen gave Roger a look.

"What?" he asked, leaning against Collins.

Maureen opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the voice of Alison's father: "Can I have your attention?"

The room quieted.

"Before we begin with dinner, I would like to present a small video we have set up to honor my beautiful daughter Alison and her wonderful new husband, and my new business partner, Benjamin." Benny and Alison stood and acknowledged the applause.

_Business partner?_ The three sober friends looked at each other. "Sellout," Maureen whispered viciously.

"If you will, please?" Mr. Grey nodded to Video Guy, who, Mark saw, looked a little out of it.

"What did you do to the guy?" he asked Maureen.

She shrugged. "Kept him busy."

The lights dimmed.

Through the darkness came, "Heh. Busy. Bzz-ieee. Buzz. Buzz."

_Slap_.

"Ow!"

"Shut up, Roger."

"He just hit me!"

A chorus of shushes filled the room.

Then the projector turned on.

A shirtless chest filled the screen.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," onscreen Benny muttered as he stepped back from the camera.

"Is it on?" Alison asked.

"I think so."

Confused whispers filled the hall.

Gasps soon followed as the horrified guests watched as onscreen Benny and Alison proceeded to have sex.

The gasps turned into shrieks. Then one lone scream pierced the darkness. Mark whipped his head around toward the table just in time to see Alison faint and fall down. Next to her now-empty chair, Benny sat stoically and unmoving, except for his pulsing jaw muscle.

Mr. Grey jumped out of his seat and screamed, "Stop!"

The projector turned off, the lights came up, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

As chaos ensued, the four Bohemians slipped out the entrance and into broad daylight, their revenge complete.

* * *

April looked up when the loft door slid open. "Hey. How'd it go?"

"It was perfect," Maureen giggled.

Collins and Mark dragged Roger over to the couch and dropped him unceremoniously next to April.

"What's wrong, baby?" she asked.

"Baby sick," Roger whimpered, cuddling closer to her and laying his head on her shoulder.

"You smell."

"Yeah, you tend to smell after downingwho knows how many beers and puking your way across the city." Collins grinned when April wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Didn't we learn last time to keep Roger away from the free beer?"

Mark chuckled as he pulled the film reel and his camera out of the bag. "Y'know, I kinda feel sorry for the guy," he began. "I mean, we did ruin his wedding..."

"Oh, he deserved it," Maureen said, plopping into a chair.

Mark considered that for a moment. "Yep, he did."

A comfortable silence followed, until:

"Speak..."

_Beep_.

"Guys, pick up." Benny. "I know you're there. Answer." He paused, as if waiting for someone to get the phone. No one did.

"Ok," he finally said. "Fighting about it won't get anywhere, so I'll be the first to admit that I deserved it. 'k? I'm sorry."

The five friends looked at each other in satisfaction.

"I--."

"Why the fuck are you apologizing!"The whiny voice filled the loft. "Give me the damn phone!" Alison screeched. A crackle came over the line as the reciever changed hands. Then:

"YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! I HATE YOU, YOU SLIMY, SMELLY PIECES OF SHIT! YOU ARE ALL GOING TO PAY! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL! I--!"

Mark pulled the plug out of the wall.

A collective sigh filled the room.

"Well, that was fun." Maureen said.

**The End**

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**I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for all the wonderful reviews. **


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